


I Am The Jellicle Night

by TheDiamondSword400



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Animated Series, Cats - Andrew Lloyd Webber
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Angst, Batman AU, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Crime Fighting, Major Character Injury, Mild Language, Murder, Mystery, Revenge, for batman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 12:14:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29808249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDiamondSword400/pseuds/TheDiamondSword400
Summary: After a drugs bust gone wrong, Batman investigates in order to bring the criminals to justice. Unfortunately, the Nepoleon of Crime has escaped Arkam intent on the same goal but with a far more bloody end in mind
Comments: 12
Kudos: 14





	1. A Bad Night For a Bust

The rain splattered down, creating little rivers in the gutters and turning the view on the other side of the windshield into a Monet painting of grays, blacks and garish yellow.  
Munkustrap hated stakeouts at this time of year.  
“Do you think they're really going to show up in this weather?”  
The silver tabby glanced over at his companion to see the black and white tom scowling out the window. Alonzo was a little rough around the edges, vain and stubbornly opinionated. The commissioner had never had a better lead detective on the force. He was also unquestionably honest, which was sadly a rarity in the Gothum PD.  
“I hope so.” Munk responded, brow pinching “This took long enough to set up.” he glanced towards the warehouse on the other side of the street “This gang has been a thorn in our side for months now. We need to catch them red handed to ensure a conviction.”  
Alonzo grunted in agreement, eyes narrowing “Just so long as that dang Batman doesn't swoop in at the last moment.” he grumbled “You've worked too hard to set this up. You deserve the credit.”  
Munkustrap's lip curled up at that, tense expression not leaving his face as he continued to stare out the windshield “I appreciate the sentiment.” he muttered then stiffened. A car was pulling up to the warehouse.  
The cops watched intently as it parked and four figures got out, moving quickly to get out of the rain.  
“This it it.” Munkustrap snapped, gesturing a command to his companion. The two got out of the car, Alonzo giving a quick command to their backup down the street, and ran quickly and silently to the warehouse door.  
The pair paused on either side of the door, guns drawn. Their eyes met. Munkustrap counted down from three in his head then gave a sharp nod. Alonzo kicked down the door “Gothem PD! Hands in the air!” He shouted, pointing his gun at those inside.  
Over the other cat's shoulder, Munk saw the gang members with packets of drugs in clear view on a table in the middle of those gathered turn towards them with startled expressions. Their leader was even there, smiling smugly.  
Wait.  
Crap!  
Munkustrap grabbed Alonzo by the scruff of the neck and dove behind a stack of plastic barrels as the bullets started flying, dragging his partner with him.  
The silver tabby peeked out through a gap between the barrels and scowled.  
“They have gunman on the second floor!” Alonzo exclaimed over the racket “They knew we were coming!”  
“Certainly looks that way.” Munkustrap agreed, eyes narrowed “Looks like we have a leak in the department.”  
Alonzo cursed angrily “Swine. We waste so much time cleaning up those finks we can barely do our jobs.”  
Munkustrap felt his brow pinch tightly in silent agreement. They would have to worry about that later though. Right now the priority was getting out of this mess.  
“On my signal, you go left and low.” Munkustrap ordered and nodded to the other side on the warehouse “Head for those pallets over there.”  
Alonzo nodded and shifted subtly, readying himself.  
“GO!  
The pair shot out from behind the barrels. The silver tabby's legs pumped, firing at the second floor as he ran for a stack of crates. On the other side of the warehouse, Alonzo shot at the gang members in the center of the building. Munkustrap did a tuck and roll, rising to his knees behind the crates and peeked out.  
Alonzo had made it behind cover. Good.  
Munk ducked back down as bullets ricocheted off the crates. He made a quick gesture around the corner. He wasn't able to see if Alonzo acknowledged the silent command but he clearly noticed it since the bullets coming from behind the pallets shifted from the center of the room to the second floor.  
He heard a startled shout from above him turn to a pained cry followed by a dull thud the commissioner's keen hearing was just able to make out over the sound of gunfire.  
Munkustrap smiled tightly. Alonzo's aim was always dependable.  
He fired over the crates, drawing the fire of those in the center towards himself and away from his partner. Two of the gang members fell and the leader bolted for a nearby door.  
Munk couldn't worry about that now. He had bigger things to worry about then making an arrest. Like the figure moving in Alonzo's blind spot on the second floor with what looked like a machine gun!  
Munkustrap shot to his feet, firing off two shots at the second floor. Both shots struck true and the gang member with the machine gun dropped.  
Alonzo was safe.  
But for those few seconds those in the center weren't pinned down.  
Munkustrap never noticed which of the four still there fire the shot.  
He cried out as pain exploded in his chest and fell back. He hit the ground hard, a feeling like a shock-wave going through him. The pain spiked with each beat of his heart and his vision tunneled. Cold spread slowly from his fingertips up his arms.  
Shock.  
He was going into shock.  
Oh, Everlasting this was bad.  
He blinked and suddenly Alonzo was looming over him “Munkustrap!” The patched tom shouted, sounding strangely distant and expression frantic. He numbly felt the Detective's hand press to his cheek, claws pricking his skin through his fur. “Stay with me, Commissioner! Montoya! Stop fooling around and get in here!” Alonzo shouted into his radio “Munkustrap's been shot! Montoya!”  
Munk's vision blurred and faded out, the world going dark around him.  
He never heard Officer Montoya's response.


	2. Hospitals Smell Funny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of the drugs bust, Tugger pays a visit to the hospital.

The Gotham General Hospital smelt like antiseptic and cheep cleaning supplies, bright florescent lights glaring down from the ceiling shining off the linoleum.

To put it simply it was one of the places Tugger hated most.

The billionaire strode down the corridor, keeping his expression pleasantly neutral to hide his distaste with his surroundings as he looked for a specific room, checking the numbers beside the doors.

It turned out he didn't need to check the numbers.

He quirked a brow noticing the police officer standing at military attention by the door. The sleek and striking Cassandra Montoya, expression as coldly impersonal as a Greek statue, glanced at him from the corner of her eyes and gave imperceptible nod before stepping slightly to the side to allow him to pass. Tugger nodded to her in thanks and entered.

The door swung shut behind him.

Tugger just stood staring at the single occupant of the room.

Munkustrap lay in a hospital bed, oxygen mask covering half his face, hooked up to machines that beeped steadily. Tugger moved forward reluctantly to stand beside the bed.

Everlasting, he was so still.

“Mr Wayne?”

Tugger turned in surprise.

Alonzo stood in the doorway, the usually impeccably styled Detective looked mushed and exhausted, a soda can gripped in one hand.

“Detective.” Tugger acknowledged, nodding to him.

“Should have know you'd show up.” Alonzo huffed, moving further into the room and sinking into the chair beside the bed. “You know, I'll never understand your interest in the Commissioner.”

“I'm just a concerned citizen.” Tugger shrugged, tone innocent.

“Yeah, right.” Alonzo snorted, not believing that for a second.

Tugger did not respond, looking down at the silver tabby in the bed.

A heavy silence fell on the room, broken only by Alonzo occasionally taking a sip from his can.

“How did this happen?” Tugger asked at last, voice strained.

Alonzo sighed, guilt flickering in his eyes “It was that new gang that's been causing problems. We set up a stakeout to nab them with the goods. Goons were expecting us, someone in the department tipped them off. I knew Gotham PD had a problem with crooked cops but I never expected never something like this.” The black and white cat ran a hand down his weary face. “I'm not taking the chance it's some kind of larger conspiracy to off him. No one gets near the Commissioner without me or Montoya present.”

Tugger's mouth thinned out to a stiff troubled line and he glanced back down at Munkustrap with guarded eyes

The door swung open behind him and Cassandra leaned into the room. “Detective? Phone for you.”

“Ugh.” Alonzo groaned “It's always something.” he grumbled and stalked out of the room.

Tugger watched him go then turned back to gaze down at Munkustrap. It hurt to see him like this, the usually strong cat so still and broken. Unfortunately there was no way for Tugger to help.

But maybe Batman could.


	3. In The Batcave

Old Deuteronomy walked down the steps into the batcave. He was an old cat, very proper and well-breed, with a keen eye and deliberate manner. He was very tall and broad with a coat like a shag carpet. Not the image one sees when they think English Butler perhaps. But he was undoubtedly the best at his craft.

“The visit went well, I take it?” he asked as he came to a stop beside the figure sitting at the computer that was nearly as tall as the cave.

“Munkustrap is in a coma.”

Deuteronomy glanced at the face of the young cat beside him, brow furrowed in concern “What's his prognosis?”

“Favorable.” Tugger said, his voice flat, absent-mindedly combing his fingers through his mane as he stared at the screen.

“That's good.” Deuteronomy replied, eyeing the younger tom's hand. That was a tick the other had never been able to control. “Do they have any suspects?”

“Munkustrap was overseeing a drugs bust involving a new gang when he was shot.” Tugger told him “They have been involved in mostly petty crime, robbery branching out into drug smuggling.”

Old Deuteronomy eyed the screen thoughtfully “Not the type of people to have the police in their pocket.” The old cat remarked “You think they might be backed by a larger organization?”

“Or a conspiracy.”

Deuteronomy looked at him sharply “You think that's possible?”

Tugger leaned back in his chair with a pinched look “Munkustrap has been making great strides in taking out the City's organized crime and cleaning up the corruption in the GPD.”

“Which wouldn't make him very popular among the less honest aspects of the city.” Old Deuteronomy murmured thoughtfully, looking troubled. He watched as Tugger rose from his chair and walked towards the secluded changing room hidden in the shadows.

“I take it you have a plan this time.” Old Deuteronomy drawled “Not your usual method of poking your nose into things like a curious cat?”

“No, I definitely have a plan.” Tugger assured him from the shadows.

Deuteronomy clasped his hands behind his back. “Well that's a nice change of pace. Might one inquire as to what this plan is?”

“Alexander Bartol.” Tugger strode back into view, now dressed as Batman, mane conspicuously absent. It was part of the genius behind his persona. His luxuriant mane was a large part of his civilian identity, of being Tugger Wyane. Hiding it away when he became Batman, compressed and concealed beneath his suit, was just one of the many ways he protected his identity.

He tapped a few keys on the computer and the picture of a scruffy unpleasant looking cat “He is part of the gang and was at the warehouse where Munkustrap was shot. He has been arrested twice for blackmail and three times for prowling and being a peeping tom. If anyone knows if there's more to this it's him.”

“He certainly seems a good bet.” Old Deuteronomy agreed then shot Tugger a look “Do try not to kill him.”

Tugger turned to stare at him shock “I would never do that! You know my stance on killing.”

“Tugger, I've raised you since you were seven, do give me the credit of having some intelligence.” Deuteronomy's gaze became deeply troubled “Under any other circumstances I would not be the least bit concerned. But you are investigating whoever put Munkustrap Gorden in a coma.”

Tugger flinched at that and looked away, expression strained.

“At least promise me you'll be careful, my boy?”

Tugger sighed and nodded “I will.” He pulled the cowl up over his head “I always am.” With that, he turned on his heel, striding towards the Batmobile and leaping in.

Old Deuteronomy watched the car peal out of the cave and disappear from sight with a taut expression, a heavy frown on his face. “Not . . . always.” he murmured to himself and made his way quietly back upstairs.


	4. Things get complicated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor Alonzo is having a rough day.

Alonzo strode back down the corridor of the hospital, scowling.

This stank.

In ten different ways, it stank.

Chief Stafford was putting pressure on him to get back to work. After all, Munkustrap was in the hospital because a known criminal shot him during a drug bust. Why would he need to be kept under guard 24/7?

Because he wouldn't have been shot if some lousy turncoat hadn't sold them out! The detective wanted this to scream from the rooftops.

Five years ago he would have.

But not these days.

Munkustrap had proved to be a pervasive influence on him. The Commissioner's cautious approach, to not aggravate those who could put a target on your back, had become second nature to the patched tom.

Also, Munk would kill him if he woke up to find out Alonzo had been fired.

The detective rounded the corner and jerked to a halt, eyes going wide in shock.

Cass was slumped against the wall, still and pale.

No.

No. no. no. no!

Alonzo rushed forward and fell to his knees beside her “Come on, Montoya. Don't do this to me.” he muttered frantically, taking hold of her wrist. He breathed a sigh of relief when he felt her steady pulse beneath his fingers. She was ok, just unconscious. But how had this happened? If she had just collapsed surely someone would have noticed? Was this a freaking hospital or what?!

Alonzo looked around, trying to catch sight of a nurse or anyone that worked there. And did a double take.

The door of a nearby room was propped open and he could make out the figure of a nurse inside. Sprawled across the floor.

If it wasn't just Cass . . . . then did that mean . . . an attack?!

Oh, Everlasting! The Commissioner!

Alonzo leaped to his feet and charged into the room. “Hands in the air!” He shouted, drawing his gun and taking aim at the shadowing figure beside the bed.

“Oh I wouldn't do that.” The figure drawled, accented baritone smooth as silk and utterly unconcerned with the weapon pointed at his head “You might hit something important.”

“I said hands in the air.” Alonzo roared, thumbing off the safety with a decisive click “Now you get away from him!”

“Temper, temper.” the figure tsked “You should take up yoga. I hear it does wonders for emotional stability.” The figure leaned forward into a shaft of moonlight as he spoke to reveal a huge fang filled grin and bright green eyes set in crimson features.

Alonzo choked back the cry of shock that threatened to escape him. Macavity! What was this psychopath doing here?!

“Don't you touch him, you freak!”

“No need to be rude, Patches. I wouldn't muss a hair on his little head.” Macavity drawled as he placed the bundle he was holding on the table beside the bed.

Alonzo blinked in confusion and his aim wavered, staring. That was roses. Why in the world was a madman bringing the commissioner a bouquet of red roses?

“He always was a total klutz, always took things so seriously.” Macavity sighed, expression utterly tragic “You know I always hated when people broke what's mine.” He said as casually as if he was sharing a bit of trivia about the weather.

Alonzo, tense and uncertain what to do, raised an eyebrow in confusion at this non-sequitur.

“I suppose I am just a big believer in karma. I always made sure to break them right back.” Macavity sighed, expression one of noble weariness, and trailed his fingers over the bandages on Munkustrap's chest.

Alonzo's gun, which had lowered slightly, snapped back up “I told you not to touch him!” He snarled. And stumbled back coughing as a cloud of red smoke exploded out from the Napoleon of Crime. Alonzo's gun slid from his hands as he collapsed into a heap, unconscious.

Macavity paid no mind to the chaos he had caused. “They will regret breaking you, Little Munkey.” The red cat said, sounding surprisingly rather fond, expression almost kind as he gazed down at the comatose tabby. He leaned forward and placed a tender kiss to Munkustrap's temple then turned and left the room, whistling a jaunty tune.

Oh, yes, they would regret breaking what was his. He would make the streets run red with their blood.

He would be avenged.


	5. Answers and Complications

Phil's Bar was a grungy rundown place, paint peeling off the walls and two letters flickered off and on in the sign. It was just the sort of place one would expect to be a den of criminal activity, a hot-spot of illegal operations.

Except the owner was uncompromisingly honest. And a former wrestler.

“AAAhhh!” Al Bartol screamed as he was sent flying out the door and sent crashing into a bunch of trash cans. He struggled back to his feet then grunted as another cat was thrown on top of him, sending him back to the ground.

“Don't you ever show your dirty mugs here again!” a voice shouted from behind them then the door to the bar slammed shut.

The cat laying on top of him shot to his feet “You don't know who you're messing with, you geezer!” He screamed, ears flat against his head in rage.

“Leave 'im.” Al grunted, grabbing his companion by the scruff of the neck and pulled him down the sidewalk “If the idiot doesn't want protection he'll get what's coming to him soon enough.” The two split up a mile down the road, Al's companion heading home while Bartol strolled down the street towards an all-night diner.

He was passing an alley when hands suddenly grabbed him, pulling him roughly into the shadows.

“Hey!” Al cried out, struggling “Let me go! You don't know who your messing with!”

He grunted as he was slammed into a wall, a fist in his shirt, grimacing in pain. He blinked and his eyes widened in horrified shock.

Batman leaned in close and fixed him with a terrifying stare. “Oh, believe me. I do.” he said, voice darkly amused “ I have some questions about the drug bust two nights ago.”

“What? Man, I don't know nothing about that!” Al protested in panic.

“You don't honestly expect me to believe that, do you?” Batman asked, plainly unimpressed “I want to know who tipped you off.”

Al swallowed thickly “Oh, come on, man! I'm just a petty crook! A lackey! Nobody tells me who is in the boss's pocket!”

“Doesn't mean you couldn't find out.”

Crap! Crap! Crap!   
“I don't know, I swear! I mean I overheard a phone call once, some guy warning the PD were planning something but I don't know who.”

Batman's head tilted to the side, silent as death as the lenses of his cowl bore into his soul.

Al felt a drop of sweat slid down his spine as the silence stretched out “Come on, please let me go! I don't know anything else!”

“Who put the hit out on the Commissioner?”

The blood drained from Al's face “What? No one!” He protested then yelped as he was dragged up the wall, the Dark Knight's hands tightening on his collar.

“Don't try and play me.” Batman growled dangerously, narrowing his eyes “You'll lose.” the sound of the materiel of his gloves straining as he tighten his grip was painfully loud in Al's ears “Now, _who put out the hit?_ ”

“I can't!” Al whimpered in terror “He'll kill me!”

“WHO?!”

Al cried out as he was slammed against the wall “Thorne!” He yelped “Rupert Thorne. He's been backing our gang. And . . . and I've been hearing him complaining about the Commish. It's got to be him!”

He squawked in surprise as Batman suddenly dropped him, falling to his hands and knees. He cowered, shaking, waiting for a blow.

That never came.

Al peaked up then looked around wildly in shock. The bat was gone. “Hey, you can't just leave me here! If they find out I squealed they'll kill me!”

But there was no answer. He was alone in the alley.

Oh, he was so dead.

The Batmobile whipped around a corner, shooting down the streets of Gotham at record speed. Tugger frowned behind his mask. It was possible Bartol lied. Or had been misinformed. But he didn't think so.

He was drawn from his thoughts by a rapid beeping and he glanced at the console screen. Old Deuteronomy was calling him?

“Deut, are you alright?” Tugger demanded, answering.

“Yes, I'm perfectly fine.” The old cat answered.

He sounded so tired and tense. Instead of being reassured, Tugger felt his concern spike. “What's wrong?”

“It's Macavity.” Old Deuteronomy told him after a heavy silence, sounding as if all his years were weighing him down. “He showed up at Munkustrap's hospital room.”

Tugger's blood turned to ice, horror and denial tunneling his vision. He shook his head sharply. No. he couldn't give in to that now. “What did he do?” He demanded, feeling taut as a bowstring.

“He . . . brought flowers.”

“What?”

Old Deuteronomy sighed heavily “Tugger, Officer Montoya heard him say . . . He said he's going after the people who hurt Munkustrap.”

Tugger grimaced, hands tightening on the wheel.

This was just what he needed.


	6. Confrontations and Broken faces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Batman confronts Throne and gets an unexpected guest,

An older fellow with gray fur and a rounded physique, Rupert Thorne was at first glance perhaps not the most impressive specimen. But the energy of the man was terrifying, the power of someone who knows they are a major player in the game of life. His eyes were cold and keen, calculating and callus. His smile, when he meant it, was thin and chilling. A smile even a snake would call frightful and cold. Just the sort of cat you'd expect to run Gotham's largest organized crime ring.

Wearing a nicely tailored gray suit, Thorne walked across his study and poured a finger of expensive whiskey from a crystal decantor into a cut glass tumbler. He took a sip and let out a contented sigh. Life was good. His businesses, both legitimate and not, were going swimmingly recently. Allowing him to relax and enjoy the finer things in life.

A shadow suddenly blocked out the ceiling light and he looked up in confusion

Thorne stumbled back as he recognized the silhouette, eyes widening in shock “Batman!” he exclaimed, spinning around. He tripped over his own feet, throwing up his hands and sending the tumbler of whiskey in to the air.

Batman caught the little crystal cup in midair without taking his eyes off Thorne, setting it casually down on the desk. The Dark Knight strode forward, staring him down “I have questions I need answered.” He growled

Thorne scrambled back to his feet, frowning as he straightened his suit jacket and fixed his hair “I don't have to answer anything without my lawyer present.” he said, tone very formal and superior.

“I think you need your eyes checked. I'm not the police.” Batman rumbled, unimpressed. His head tilted slightly “You put a hit out on the Commissioner. Did you really think you'd get away with it?”

“What?” Thorne looked at him sharply and his face twisted in outrage. “Don't be ridiculous.”

“I have all the evidence needed to secure a conviction.” Batman was as still as a statue as he said this, utterly unmoved. “Things will go better for you if you confess.”

“Oh no! I'm not taking the rap for that pig.” Thorne swiped a hand through the air angrily and got into the taller cat's face. “I should never have agreed to let him use my organization to take out that pest. You tell him his use is at an end!”

Batman's chin lowered, eyes narrowing dangerous, a cold silence stretching out “That's your second assumption of the night.” he growled at last “One more and I break your jaw.”

Thorne took a step back, startled “He didn't send you?”

“No one sends me.” Batman growled, eyes burning into the gray haired cat like the fires of hell “I'm going to need that name.”

Ka-BOOM!

Batman tackled Thorne as the explosion ripped through the building, shielding them both with his cape as he crouched over the gangster.

“Get off me!” Throne growled, aiming an elbow for Batman's midsection and sliding out from under him. Of all the indignities!

They both turned, distracted by the sound of slow clapping.

Macvity stood on the other side of the ruined study, seemingly not caring about the flames surrounding them. “How noble! What a sublime performance! The hero saving the villain from his well deserved fate.” his pleasant expression twisted into a hateful sneer. “Have a taste of Hell, Thorne!” Macavity roared and throw a bunch of little silver balls.

Batman grabbed Throne by the scruff of the neck and dove out of the way, the bombs exploding behind them seconds later.

Thorne screamed as they crashed through the window. Batman fired his grappling hook and the two shot towards the roof.

Thorne stumbled as they landed, face-planting on the roof.

Batman reached down to help him up and jerked back as the old cat lashed out at him “Don't touch me, you freak!” the gangster snapped, scrambling to his feet. “This was a good night before you showed up and blew up my house.” He growled, straightening his suit. “Why don't go offer somebody else your 'help'?”

“You know, there seems to be a epidemic going on. Everyone is so rude.”

Rupert Thorne spun around in horror, eyes widening as Macavity casually strolled across the roof towards him. “You?! How did you get up here so fast?!”

“I took the elevator.” Macavity sing-songed as he continued to approach then pulled out a vicious looking knife “It was impressively fast. But it gave just enough time to think up some wonderful things to do to you.”

“What are you just standing around for?!” Thorne shrieked at Batman who hadn't moved from behind him. “Get him!”

“Tut, tut, Rudy. You should know better then to insult the only person capable of saving your life.” Macavity scolded then grabbed Thorne by the collar, spinning him around and slamming him into the ground. The red cat leaped forward to straddle the gangster's legs “You should have known better then to go after what's mine.” He snarled, features suddenly twisted in rage and raised his knife.

“Someone put him up to it.”

Macavity froze and turned to give Batman a comically baffled look “What?”

“Someone told him to put the hit on Munkustrap.” Batman clarified, still and calm as a statue.

“Who?!” Macavity demanded harshly.

“He didn't say.” was the placid response, lens covered eyes dropping to look at the pinned gangster.

The red cat spun back around, shoving the blade under Thorne's chin “Who was it, Tubby?!” He spat, green eyes flashing with maniacal light “WHO?!”

“Forget it.” Thorne growled, eyes hard as flint “I ain't no squealer.”

“Oh, I'll make you.”

Thorne yelped in pain as the red cat punched him in the face, striking him multiple times. The gangster's gasped and twisted around, staring at dark figure at the edge of the roof. “Don't just stand there! Help me!”

“Then talk.” was the placid replay.

“I can't!” Thorne's exclaimed and cried out as Macavity punched him again. “Ow! Ok! Ok! It was Stafford! He's the one who requested the hit! Ow! Now get this madman off me!” He let out a strangled cry as the red cat suddenly jerked him up, crimson features suddenly inches from his own.

“Stafford? What kinda of an answer is that?” Macavity snarled and waved a hand angrily “There's got to be a million Staffords!” The red cat raised a fist to resume his attack.

A black glove grabbed his wrist. “Enough!”

Macavity turned in surprise.

Batman met his gaze with a hard look “I said enough.”

The two were frozen long moment, arms forming a bridge between them and staring into each others eyes.

Macavity let out a long-suffering sigh “And here I thought you had finally become interesting.”

Batman dodged the swipe aimed at his head and leaped to his feet out of range of a blow to his midsection.

Macavity lunged forward, tacking him to the ground and grabbing him by the neck. The red cat squeezed the Dark Knight's neck, shaking him roughly and baring his fangs.

Batman punched him in the jaw, sending him stumbling back in a daze.

Batman leaped to his feet and kicked out, hitting the red cat in the gut and knocking him off his feet.

The red cat collapsed at the edge of the roof, spitting out blood and blinking rapidly.

The Dark Knight stalked forward then froze as the red cat shot to his feet. Green eyes flashed as the criminal grinned at him, bloody fangs glinting in the moonlight. “Fun as always, Batsy.” he laughed, blood dripping lazily from a split lip “But I've got a rat to sniff out. Don't worry. I'll make sure your invited to the party.”

With that, Macavity stepped backwards off the roof and disappeared from view.

“No!” Batman shot forward and leaned over the edge.

But Macavity wasn't there.

It was like he had disappeared into thin air.

Tugger let out a sigh. That's always how their fights ended. He'd be back, chaos in his wake.

Now if only he could convince himself he didn't find that comforting.

“Took you long enough to butt in.”

Batman turned to see Rupert Thorne pushing himself to his feet. The gangster wiped the blood off his face with his sleeve “Couldn't you have stopped that nut before he beat my face in?” he demanded, straightening his clothes.

“Would you have talked if he didn't?”

Thorne froze, eyes going wide and flushing hotly. He spun in rage “Why you conniving-!” he broke off in shock. The bat was gone.

“Costumed freaks.” he spat is disgust and turned to walk back inside. “They're all the same.”


	7. Out of the Frier and into the Fire

“I don't want to hear about your delusions, Detective. I want you and Montoya back to work by tomorrow morning or you're fired.” Police Chief Clinton Stafford slammed the receiver down with a scowl. Stupid paranoid fool, making his life more difficult.

It only put him more on edge how close he was to the truth.

He ran his hands down his face with a growl as he sank into his chair. Being Chief of Police was hard enough. He had just wanted to remove a pesky thorn from his side. It should have worked. Having that gang Thorne was backing kill Munkustrap should have been a clean operation with no chance of being traced back to either of them.

Even if the Commissioner survived being shot he had arranged for one of Thorne's men to off him at the hospital.

Except Detective Alonzo and Officer Montoya hadn't left his side, meaning the assassin couldn't get close and was now demanding to be paid for wasting days on an 'easy job'. Thorne was threatening to end their arrangement because apparently Batman had discovered the plot.

Oh, and as a fun little topper to the whole can of worms, Macavity for some reason was going around slaughtering everyone connected with the attack on Munkustrap.

And he still had to do the paperwork for his legitimate job!

So much for a cushy job that practically ran itself.

He looked up from the report he was skimming with a frown and glanced towards the window to his right. The wind from the open window caused the blinds bumped against the wall, making the sound that had drawn his attention. He could have sworn he hadn't opened it . . .

“Chief Stafford?”

Clint yelped and spun back around, staring at the black figure now standing at the other side of the desk. “Oh, Batman!” He squeaked out then cleared his throat, taking a deep breath to calm his racing heart “What can I do for you?”

“You put the hit out on the Commissioner.”

He felt his blood run cold at that statement but kept his expression calm, raising a baffled eyebrow “Excuse me?

“You put the hit on Commissioner Munkustrap Gordon, using Rupert Thorne's criminal organization to carry it out.” Batman said, expounding on his statement, a looming shadow on the other side of the desk as he glared down on the police chief.

Ok, keep it cool. Keep it cool. Stafford leaned forward on his desk, steepling his fingers together “That's a very serious accusation. I hope you have proof to back it up?” he drawled, tone making it clear he was humoring the vigilante.

He blinked in surprise as a thick manila folder was thrown onto this desk. Stafford glanced at the dark knight questioningly but received no response. Hesitantly, he pulled it closer and opened it up. He felt the blood drain from his face as he flipped through the pages. Everything. He had everything. Bank statements, phone conversations, he had evidence of his involvement with Thorne going back years.

“This proves nothing!” he growled, throwing the folder back on the desk. It proved everything.

And Batman knew it.

The Dark Knight tilted his head, giving him an unimpressed look “This is only a copy of the evidence against you.” He stated flatly.

Meaning he couldn't just destroy it. A cover-up wasn't an option. He would have loved discrediting Batman too.

“Do you really think anyone would believe a violent vigilante over a respected public figure?” The chief demanded angrily, shooting to his feet.

“You should go outside more. You're not nearly as respected as you think.” Batman drawled, almost sounding amused. Then he frowned dangerously, the lenses on his cowl narrowing “There is just one thing I want to know.”

“And what might that be?” Stafford growled, baring fangs in frustration.

“Why would the Chief of Police put a hit on the Police Commissioner?”

Oh, what the heck? Things couldn't get any worse. Clint Stafford straightened his tie, adopting a image of bored indifference “Why? That stick in the mud didn't deserve to make Commissioner! Don't get me wrong, he's a good cop. But he's way too honest for this line of work, always sticking his nose where it doesn't belong.”

“Just like you.”

Batman dove out of the way as Stafford quickly drew his gun and fired off three shots.

Which got him away from the door.

The police chief bolted out of the office. He had to get out. If Bat's chased him down, maybe he could spin it to his advantage.

He could still get away with this.

He cried out as something crashed into the wall near his head and quickly changed direction, throwing himself threw the door to the stairs.

His eyes widened as he heard a door a floor down slam shut. How many people were after him?!Stafford bolted upstairs and stumbled out the door o the roof. He turned and raised his gun, aiming at the door as he backed away. The police chief was shaking all over, staring at the door with wide eyes. The instant the Bat opened the door he was putting a bullet through his head.

His wrist suddenly exploded in pain and he cried out, dropping his gun. He spun in shock, feeling panic scream in the back of his mind. How had Batman gotten up here so quickly?!

It wasn't Batman who stepped out of the shadows.

It was Macavity.

The red cat strode casually out of the shadows, twirling a throwing knife around his finger and grinning manically.

“So it turns out that tip off about 'Stafford' actually meant something. Who'd a thunk?” the criminal shrugged then suddenly whipped his arm forward.

The police chief screamed in pain as the knife slammed into his thigh, collapsing in a heap. “You won't get away with this!” Clint Stafford shrieked, expression wild with pain and fear “The Batman will stop you!”

He flinched back as Macavity suddenly dropped to his knees beside him, noses almost touching “Ol' Bats is gonna be a little late to the party, I'm afraid. But don't worry,”

“We can still have fun.”


	8. Death and Salvation

The henchcat groaned and crumpled to the floor of the landing in a heap, joining the four others who Batman had already knocked out.

He glanced over them to insure they weren't going to get back up then spun around, bolting up the stairs and onto the roof. He jerked to a halt. eyes widening in shock.

No one was there.

Where could the police chief have gone?

“Well, well, well. Fashionably late as always, Batman!”

He spun around and looked up.

Macavity stood atop the little building housing the door to the stairs, holding the bloodied and bound chief of police up beside him. “We didn't think you were going to make it.” Macavity grinned down at him “Clinty Boy here has so been looking forward to dancing with you.”

“Let him go.” Batman growled, glaring up at the red cat “He needs to stand trial.”

Macavity rolled his eyes in exasperation “That old song? Really, Batsy, you need to learn a new tune. But since I'm in such a generous mood.” He sighed then threw the chief down to the roof.

Batman stiffened at the dull wet thud the man made when he hit the ground.

A rush of movement made him spin, batarang raised. then he lowered it with a frustrated hiss, scowling.

Macavity was gone.

Again.

He'd got what he wanted, after all. There was no reason for him to stick around anymore.

Batman walked over to the police chief's body and turned him over.

Stafford wheezed and hissed in pain as he fell over on his back.

He was still alive.

Batman reached for his communicator to call for medical help then froze when the injured cat let out a rasping laugh.

“You ain't getting the last laugh, ya nut.” Stafford wheezed out, smugly satisfied “Ya ain't.”

Batman leaned forward, eyes narrowing as his heart skipped a beat. What did he do? “What did you do?” He demanded in a low growl. “What did you do?!”

“Called off that paranoid gumshoe.” Stafford gasped out, bloody lips spreading into a leer. “. . . . already paid off. Commish' ain't gonna . . . live til daylight.” Clint Stafford laughed, a horrible rasping sound that echoed across the rooftop.

And cut off with a choking wheeze.

Blood running cold with horror, Batman shot to his feet and fired his grappling hook, flying off into the night sky. He had to get to the hospital, stat. He had to get there before anything happened.

He couldn't lose Munkustrap again.

Gotham General was quiet. Such places were never truly devoid of activity, but a certain sort of peace had fallen over the sterile halls. A nurse, dressed in scrubs and with a mask over the lower half of his face and a matching cap over his hair, strolled casually down the hall. He slipped into a room and paused, eyeing it's sole occupant.

Munkustrap lay still, the machines he was hooked up to beeping steadily, sounding almost unconcerned.

The man walked calmly over to the bed and paused beside the pole the IV bag hang from. He glanced about cautiously, cold narrow eyes intense. Keeping his back between the door and the pole, he pulled a syringe out of his pocket. He uncapped it and took hold of the thin tube connecting the cat to the bag-

A black blur shot through the air, striking the needle from his hand.

The man let out a startled gasp, staring wide-eyed at the bat shaped projectile embedded in the wall and spun around.

Batman lowered himself slowly through the window, eyes locked on the assassin's face, danger and protective rage screaming from every inch of his being.

Glaring over his mask, the assassin drew a switch blade and flicked it open.

Batman lunged across the space separating them and punching him in the jaw, driving him back from the bed. He landed and kicked out at the assassin's legs.

The man leaped over the kick and lashed out with his knife.

Batman dodged out of the way a second too late, blade slashing open his suit. He lunged forward, punching the assassin twice in the chest then gave in uppercut to his jaw.

The assassin collapsed, sprawling out in a heap, unconscious.

Batman straddling the other cat's waist and made quick work of handcuffing his wrist's and ankles.

“Ba'man?”

The Dark Knight spun in surprise.

Munkustrap stared at him from the bed, eyes bleary and unfocused, looking startled.

Batman stood and walked over to stand beside his bed, placing a reassurance hand on his shoulder “Rest, Commissioner. Everything is alright now.” he said with surprising gentleness.

Blue eye flicked over him, looking uncertain and full of questions, but the tabby's eyes slid shut as he gave into his exhaustion.

“Oh my!” a voice exclaimed from behind him.

Batman turned to see a nurse standing in the door, surveying the scene with wide eyes and a hand covering her mouth in shock.

“I suggest you call the police.” Batman commanded flatly.

The nurse gave a squeak and bolted from the room.

When she returned minutes later with a doctor, he was gone.


	9. Epilogue

Rain came down in torrents, trailing rivets down the large windows of Wayne Manor.

Tugger stared out the windows of his study onto the darkened grounds of the estate. The commissioner had been released from the hospital two days ago. Macavity was still at large, wanted for the death of Police Chief Clinton Stafford. Tugger doubted he would be caught until the deranged feline decided to emerge from the shadows again. But he hadn't expected anything else. The Napoleon of Crime could never stay out of the spot light for long however. So he had no doubt the red cat would be bacak. And he would put him back in Arkham Asylam where he belonged soon enough.

Yes, things had finally returned to normal.

“Sir?”

Tugger turned to see Old Deuteronomy standing in the doorway, a strange expression on the older cat's face.

“You have a visitor.” The butler told him and stepped aside to allow said visitor into the room.

Tugger's eyebrows rose in surprise as Commissioner Munkustrap Gorden stepped past Old Deuteronomy into the room.

Deuteronomy glanced between them for a moment, an almost hopeful expression on his face. “I'll leave you two alone to talk.” he said at last and closed the door behind him as he left.

The two stared at each other from across the room in silence, seconds dragging by.

Munkustrap stuck his hands in his pockets, tails of his trench-coat twitching slightly “Just came to tell you the good news. Thorne's been arrested. Batman provided enough evidence tying him to Chief Stafford to put him away for life.” The silver tabby gave a humorless laugh “Granted, I wouldn't be surprised if he was able to wiggle his way out of this. But it's the best chance we've ever had.”

“That is good news.” Tugger agreed then shot him a confused look “But why tell me?”

Munkustrap shrugged, looking like he was very hard to act casual “Just thought you might want to know what you helped us accomplished.”

Tugger gave him a sharp look “I helped?”

“Yes,you.” A tight look passed over the commissioner's face “Batman.”

Tugger flinched back in shock and forced out a laugh “Me? Batman? You're mistaken.”

“You were never a good liar, Tugs, so don't even try.” Munk snapped then a pained look spread over his face “Though I guess you were better then I thought.” He sighed heavily and shook his head “I saw it, in the hospital room, where that assassin cut open your suit.” He dropped his gaze to eye the other's mane significantly.

Tugger's hand flew to the long fur, eyes widening in realization.

“He was one of Thorne's top hit-man, by the way. So thank you for that.”

“You're welcome.” Tugger responded for lack of anything better to say. He combed his fingers through his fur nervously “Are you mad?” he asked softly.

“I was furious.” Munkustrap confessed, snapping and making Tugger flinch slightly. He shook his head angrily, squeezing his eyes tight. “That whole stupid fight we had! I was so angry at you for being such a useless trust fund baby playboy that I disowned you. I changed my name, for heaven's sake! And the whole time you were . . . this?” Munkustrap looked back at Tugger, expression broken “Were you ever going to tell me?”

Tugger stared at him, wide eyed and stricken, and looked away. He walked over to the window, emotions swirling in a tempest inside him.

His silence was enough of an answer.

“Why?” Munkustrap demanded from behind him “Why wouldn't you tell me? My god, Tugger! I shot at Batman the first time I saw him on a case! _I_ shot at you!”

“I was trying to protect you.” Tugger said without turning to look at him, voice soft and strained.

“Protect me? I'm your big brother. I'm supposed to protect you!” Munkustrap protested, sounding on the verge of tears.

“We already had Mac running around in a costume. I didn't want you to look at me the same way you look at him.” Tugger confessed sadly.

Munkustrap scowled at his brother's back “I know you don't trust me but please don't insult my intelligence, Tugs. It doesn't take a genius to see there's a big difference between Batman and Macavity.”

“I do trust you!” Tugger protested angrily, spinning around to glare at him.

“Clearly not if you ever thought I'd compare you to Mac.” Munk countered flatly, crossing his arms.

Tugger deflated and looked away guiltily. He couldn't argue with that.

He looked up in surprise as Munk took hold of his shoulders, surprised to find the silver tabby staring at him with tears in his eyes. “I . . . Thank you. For everything. You saved my life. You've saved my life so many times over the past few years. I'm so proud of you.”

Tugger's eyes went huge and tears welled up.

He was shocked to realize how much he'd need to hear that.

For the first time in over a decade, the Batman hugged his brother close and cried into his shoulder.

The End


End file.
